Friday, March 21, 2014

Remembering Jeni

It almost seems like a lifetime ago when I was first
breaking free of my denial, finding the courage to use my voice, speak out
about the truth of what adoption had done to me, my oldest son, my entire
family.

Back, in 2008, when I first started this blog, I was on one
of the worst emotional challenges I had ever known in my life. When I look back at that time now, it’s like
seeing this tidal wave of emotions and confusion and pain and loss coming at
me, again and again. And I was so
powerless then to stop it, to protect myself from everything I was going
through.

The denial I so desperately clung to had been painfully
ripped away a little over a year before when I’d reunited with my oldest son. And
yet I’d gone and struggled alone because, as I’ve said before, I was
convinced I was the one in the wrong for feeling like I did. That there couldn’t be others who felt like I
did because adoption, as it was presented to me, was such an amazing thing for
First Mothers and Adoptees. How could
any of them be like me and actually feel pain and loss.

And then I stumbled across them, First Moms who were hurting
just like I had. Who were actually
speaking out about their pain, supporting one another, sharing experiences and
feelings that were so like mine.

It was the first step in my healing. But I was still held back by so much.

During that time, at the start of 2008, while finding
healing in the First Moms I had found, I was still so desperately terrified of
associating with adoptees. How could
they not hate all us First Moms who had given up our children? How could they not look at us and be
disgusted by what we had done to our own children.

And then, while in the time of our lives when my oldest son
backed away and went silent, I learned of the physical and mental abuse he had
suffered through his childhood. It was
one of the darkest and hardest times of my life. Functioning as a normal human being from day
to day, seemed impossible. I just wanted
to crawl into a dark, silent hole and go away.
Leave it all. Ignore the terrible
reality slapping me in the face.

It was then, as I’ve shared before here on my blog, that
adoptees reached out to me. Shared their
own painful pasts. Offered me the
courage and strength to not only face the next day but to also reach out to and
be there for my son.

She was, in so many ways, so much of what I needed at that
time in my life. Those who knew her,
will nod their heads in understanding when I say, she didn’t mince her
words. She was open and honest and said
what needed to be said.

And that was exactly what I needed then. In her own way, she supported me, gave me
strength, while refusing to allow me to wallow in any kind of self-pity. She was the kind of no-nonsense, give it to
you straight, adoptee I needed during that time when I was so cautious,
reserved in any interaction I had with adoptees because of my belief that they
would hate me just for being a mother who gave up her child.

Jeni opened up and relived her own painful past as an
adoptee to help me become better prepared and able to be there for my oldest
son. She had such courage, such strength
that was all so new to me back then. I
know she had to hurt herself to open up as she did in order to help
me. And yet, it was never a question for
her. She did it. She helped.
And that, to her, was what mattered.

And for me, there are no words to accurately describe what
it meant to me to have her reach out, help me in the way she did. Me, a complete stranger at the time. A mother who had given her child away. A woman desperately floundering to make sense
of everything happening.

I had no clue, then, who I was, where I was heading. But Jeni didn’t care. She was there. Offering so much more than I ever thought I
had the right to receive.

She was so much in getting me to where I am today. In making sure I was the best I could be for
my oldest son. In encouraging and
helping lay the foundation for all that my son and I now share together.

And now beautiful, amazing Jeni has moved on to the next
part of her journey. She’s left us here
in the living world, moved on to something better where I know everything she
is, all that is so wonderful about her, will serve such an amazing purpose.

Even as I sit here and write this through my tears, I know,
without question, wherever she is, whatever her new future holds, it will also
include helping others, being there for them.
Fighting for those who deserve so much more than they are given.

Because that is who she was.
That is what she wanted and will never, not even after death, stop
fighting for.

In this crazy, emotional, roller-coaster world of all that
is the fight for adoption reform/adoptee rights, there are friendships, relationships,
formed that are hard to explain and yet reach deeper . . . stronger . . . than
anything ever known before.

There is an openness, a raw bearing of one’s true self, that
is so rarely matched in any other part of life.
There is acceptance for just who one is, in both the good and bad. An understanding of pain that controls so
much, courage that is such a battle to find.

And there are losses that cut deeper, hurt worse than we could
ever imagine.

Losing an amazing, wonderful soul like Jeni has cut deep,
pounded hard, against so many of us. The
friendships, relationships, she created were formed, held by so much emotion,
strength, courage. But always based on
the wonderful woman she was. The care
and love she offered so many.

We mourn with beaten, hurting hearts, the loss of such an
amazing friend, ally, human being. And
we hold on to all that she was. All that
she inspired us to be.

Because Jeni mattered.
Her life had purpose . . . meaning.
And with her heart-breaking death, so many are stepping forward to be
better, give more, do what we can to carry on the legacy she created in her support
and love for others.

We are close, we are loved, we matter, through the
unexplainable connection we share in our grief and loss brought by
adoption. And when we lose one so
important, so profound, we hurt, we struggle and we mourn.

And we will continue on, fight harder, give more. Because it’s who we are. Because we know it’s what Jeni would want.

Because we know, to truly honor her and all she’s done for
so many of us, it’s what is right, just, and true.

We love you Jeni. And
we promise all that you were, all that you fought so hard for, will never be
forgotten.

5 comments:

Oh Cassi... I am so very sorry that you have lost someone so dear to you. I only"knew" Jeni through her blog when she was writing and then on fb, yet I was still so saddened to hear of her death. Sending you lots of love my friend, and a big cyber hug as well.

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I was sixteen and pregnant. Frightened and so confused. I remember the pamphlet my school nurse handed me. Pregnant? Confused? We understand. We can help you decide which option is best for you and your baby. I needed that. An adult who would comfort me, help me and not judge. Blindly I walked into the adoption agency, seeking help, information, and my life was never the same. They used my age and my emotions for their own gain. Their offered comfort came with one agenda in mind - to make sure I chose adoption for my unborn baby. I walked in their doors as an unknowing, trusting child. I walked out as a battered mother who lost more than she could ever imagine.

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In order to drive a car you must be of a certain age, to drink you must be a certain age, to have your own credit card or even your own bank account without parent signatures you must be a certain age - yet government allows very young vulnerable single mothers to sign a legally-binding document handing over their own flesh-and-blood, another human life, to complete strangers.- Claudia Ganzon -